A Little Man with a Big Heart
by spottedhorse
Summary: Begins around the time of A Bullet Runs Through IT. Brass from the view of my very own OC.
1. Introduction

Begins just before A Bullet Runs Through It. My OC meets our fav detective and well, things just go from there. I hope I manage to stay true to Brass. Feel free to kick me if I stray too far. Of course, CSI doesn't belong to me. If it did, Brass would be the Sheriff and Grissom would've never left.

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It was evening, after hours for my little shop in Las Vegas and I had stopped by the market for a few items while on my way home to change for a dinner meeting with my accountant. I had everything I needed except for some produce and rounded the end of the aisle to head that way when another shopping cart banged into mine. A scowling man with an almost round face and a fireplug body with broad shoulders drove the offending cart. He had middle-aged spread going on minus the paunch that afflicts so many men his age. He looked so damned squeezable in his jeans and tight fitting polo. At second glance, he looked solidly built and again, those broad shoulders, built to be cried upon. His short sleeves revealed serious biceps that hinted at power that seemed out of place at his age. A five o'clock shadow was evident, especially over his upper lip and his hairline had receded, giving him a high forehead, lined with wrinkles. And although he was scowling, there was a hint of mischief in his deep blue eyes. Only about an inch taller than me, he was short in my book. Most of the men in my life have been six feet or over, emphasis on the over. But there was something in this "little" man that attracted me instantly.

"Excuse me," he growled, mischief still lighting his eyes.

"Pardon me," I blurted out at the same time.

He shrugged. "Truce?"

"Done," I smiled.

I wanted to linger, meet this man, but my appointment didn't allow time, so glancing at the produce I smiled again and headed that way. I felt his gaze as I crossed to the department and fought the temptation to look back. After making my selections, I checked out and headed to my car wondering if I would ever see "my little man" again. I hoped so.

About a week later, I did see him. The bookstore down the street was robbed and as I stood in my shop doorway watching the excitement, I spotted him. He was nicely dressed and a badge dangled from his jacket pocket. I watched as he talked to the shop owner and then a few witnesses. He seemed efficient, serious about his job, with no hint of mischief until another man about his age showed up. I couldn't hear what was said, but there was some teasing going on; I could tell by the nuances of the two men's body language. The other man went into the bookstore but "my little man" remained outside. His back was to me now and I watched as he shifted his weight, flinched his hand and then slowly turned in my direction. That he had felt my gaze, I was sure. His eyes found me and an impish grin broke out on that craggy, weary face of his and for a moment, I felt connected to my little man. Then a uniformed officer spoke to him drawing his attention away and that was the last I saw of him for several weeks.

There was a gun battle across town and as I watched the news, I thought I caught a glimpse of him in the background of some of the video. If it was he, I was glad to see him standing up and apparently healthy. An officer had been shot and I knew it was a bad time for the Police Department, especially those involved in the incident. The news went on and on about it for several days as they sorted out the events until finally, it wound down and another story took its place.

A few days later, I was back at the market when I saw him. His dress was very casual and he was wearing a heavy five o'clock shadow. His body slumped in weariness and he wore sadness like a second skin. It hurt to see him looking like that.

I saw him turn down the coffee aisle so I headed down the next aisle and turned, just in time to crash into his cart. He hadn't seen it coming and his head shot up, anger etched into his face, until he saw it was me. And then, like a leaky tire, he let out all his air and settled into a deflated slump again. He tried to muster a smile but the sadness that enveloped him prevented anything more than a hint at the effort. I smiled at him, tilting my head in curiosity, suddenly very concerned about my little man.

He saw the concern; it registered in his eyes and again he attempted a smile. Our eyes locked at that point and I didn't want to look away, afraid that if I released his gaze, something would be lost forever. "Maybe we should stop meeting like this," I suggested.

A slight wince crossed his features but his eyes didn't leave mine. He was looking for hidden meaning in my short statement. He started to say something but held back, settling into a waiting posture. "There's a coffee shop around the corner…" I suggested.

He glanced in the direction of the store window as if going outside would be painful. "I um…" he nodded negatively. "I'd better not…" He looked miserable.

I decided to change my tactic. Extending my hand, I introduced myself. "I'm Anna Bolen," I offered.

His head tilted and I saw his fingers twitching as he debated whether to introduce himself or not. He took my hand and said very quietly, "Jim Brass…" His eyes darted around, as if he feared someone overhearing him.

"So…you don't like coffee?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do," he said, a little energy returning to his demeanor. "I um…well, I'm just trying to stay out of public places right now."

I could feel the frown forming on my face and tried to fight it off, but he was very confusing. Why wouldn't he want to be in public? I wondered. "Well, how about my place then? It's just a couple of blocks away."

His eyes narrowed and he looked surprised. "You don't watch the news much, do you? I'm asking because if you did, you wouldn't be asking me to your place."

"I…yeah, I watch it….some. Why?"

"You know that shoot out a few days ago? The one where the cop was killed?"

I nodded that I was aware of it. "It was all over the news for days."

"You heard he was killed by friendly fire?"

"Yeah, that must be terrible, I mean…it's terrible in any case, but that a fellow officer is responsible…"

"Yeah, it is. I'm the guy; the bastard that shot him."

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. It hurt to hear the anger, the misery in his voice. As I watched him, I could see he was preparing himself for whatever bad thing that would happen next, total rejection or an angry diatribe. The phrase about kicking a dog when it is down came into my mind. This man had been kicked and hard and it showed. He was as wounded as any of those that might have been physically wounded in the shootout. Maybe more so because his wounds were deep and would never heal. At least those who had died in the gunfight were at peace now. This man would never know peace again. I was looking into the eyes of a man who desperately needed a friend, needed understanding, and as I looked at those broad shoulders, I realized he was in need of a shoulder to cry on. So I offered mine. "The offer for coffee stands," I said confidently.

He was genuinely surprised and a little guarded. He wasn't sure of my motives. "I um, wanted to ask you for coffee when we first time ran into each other but I had an appointment. I've been hoping to run into you again ever since…so here we are. I've waited for weeks to meet you, I'm not backing down now," I told him.

Relief washed over him and I could see him beginning to relax. "You sure? I mean, you don't even know me. You usually take strangers home with you?"

"No, but you're not a total stranger. I saw you at the bookstore and I know you are a cop. If I can't trust a cop, who can I trust?" I realized immediately that I'd said the wrong thing. His face fell. "Besides," I tried to recover, "you have a gentle face."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. Nobody's ever accused me of that before…"

I smiled. "But you do…at least, that's what I see." He smiled, finally. It was a little smile but it was a start. Then I jotted down my address and phone number. Handing it to him, I added, "Give me about a fifteen minute head start and I'll have some hot coffee by the time you get there."

"How about a half hour?" he asked. "I need to run these groceries by my house."

"Okay, thirty minutes then, but not a minute more." I could see he was looking forward to the cup of coffee. "Right," he said. "I'll be there."

We parted company and I headed for the checkout. Within minutes, I was in my car and headed home. He'd exited the market just as I started my car and I waved at him. He nodded and grinned as he walked towards his car. Finally, I had a name for my little man, Jim Brass.

By the time his car pulled into my drive, I had coffee made and sweet rolls warming in the oven. "Wow, it smells delicious in here," he stated as he stepped into my house.

"Thanks. I put some rolls in the oven; they should be ready any minute. You ready for that coffee?"

"Rolls? Wow, that's nice…yeah, coffee sounds great about now," he said as he followed me into the kitchen.

I pulled the rolls out and poured our coffee, indicating that he take a seat at the table. Once the food and beverage was taken care of, we began to chat. "So, all I know about you besides your name is that you have a shop near a recent crime scene," he began. "You from here originally?"

"No, I would have thought my accent would have given me away," I chuckled. "I'm a Southern girl; lived all over the South and still have a place in the mountains of Virginia. But I moved here about five years ago."

"Wow…a place in the mountains?"

"Yeah, on the western slopes of the Blue Ridge. It's beautiful. I thought about selling it when I moved here, but I just didn't have the heart to do it. I go back once or twice a year and spend some time there. It…restores me."

"Man, I could use a place like that…a place to get restored," he said wistfully.

"You have an accent too…New York? Or is it New Jersey, I'm hearing?"

"New Jersey…Newark. But I moved out here years ago…almost twenty, I guess." He grimaced. "Boy, I didn't realize it'd been that long."

"So what brought you out here?"

"I needed a fresh start. Things had gotten pretty bad back there. My marriage had failed and I'd uncovered some rotten apples in the department there. I was drowning and I need to get out."

"Why Vegas?" I was curious.

"I dunno, it seemed like a good place to start over. Far away from all of that and they needed cops. Seemed like a good career move."

"Hmmm," I nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Why did you move here?"

"Business. Mine wasn't doing so well back in Virginia. Vegas seemed like a going and growing place, so I decided to move it here. So far it has proven to be a good move."

He nodded, mentally searching for the next topic, I could tell. "So…any family?"

"A son; he's in the Army…in Iraq right now."

"Oh, wow…I'm sorry. That's got to be worrying you."

"It does, but it is what it is. Things aren't as bad as they were for his first tour, so that makes it a little easier. He's due home in a few months and I'll be glad when I know he's back stateside."

We stared at nothing, the conversation sobered by thoughts of my son in harm's way until I asked him, "What about you? You have any family?"

He grimaced. I'd hit a sore spot again. "A daughter but we aren't close. I've tried but…"

More silence. Then I reflected. "Kids…it seems that no matter how old they get or how far away they are, as parents we always worry about them."

"Yeah," he agreed with a heavy sigh. "I wasn't around much when Ellie, that's my daughter, was growing up. And after I moved here, I didn't see her but a few times a year. It made things …difficult between us."

"They never understand, do they?"

"No. But I can see where she took it wrong, maybe thought I didn't love her. I think she still believes that."

"You do though; your voice when you speak her name gives you away."

"Yeah, I do Maybe one day…" he shrugged.

"You know, my parents split when I was a kid. I knew the reasons why and knew that it had nothing to do with me but still, I never could get over the feeling that it was somehow my fault. Maybe if I'd behaved better….or maybe there was something I should have done that I didn't…"

"Yeah," he shifted in his seat, "I had a family counselor tell me that once…that kids feel that way. I've tried to reassure Ellie, but it doesn't seem to matter." His eyes met mine. "So you were from a broken home?"

"Yeah. They split when I was ten. It was messy; my Mom finally had to call the cops. I didn't see my Dad for months until things began to settle down between them. But even then, it was always tense when he'd come to pick me up. And if he were even a little late bringing me back, she'd call the cops. I felt like the whole world knew about our troubles. It did teach me not to be too judgmental about others though. You know, the old 'people who live in glass houses thing…"

He smirked. Yeah…but we all do, you know."

I nodded. "So your parents must have made it…together I mean."

"Yeah," he brightened. "Mom and Dad were a perfect fit. They had that whole Ward and June Cleaver thing going and she seemed happy with her role. Dad worked hard all of his life to provide all the necessities and also helped us with college. And Mom made sure that his slippers were waiting when he got home every evening, that the paper was ready for him, and that dinner was on the table promptly at 6:30. I can count on one hand the times I heard them argue and even then, neither raised their voice in anger. It was what I thought marriage should be….what I wanted it to be. Instead, I landed in a hornet's nest."

"My husband and I fought like crazy. I thought that's what married people did. And I lived in fear that one day, he'd get fed up and leave like my father did. It took years for him to convince me that he was in it for the long haul. When I finally believed it, the arguing just sort of faded away and we had some really good years."

"So…what happened?"

"He worked for a defense contractor. He was in The Pentagon on 9/11." Tears formed in my eyes as I remembered.

"Oh hey….wow….I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but I'm okay. It took awhile, but I'm okay now." He looked uncomfortable, like he was unsure of what to do.

"Really," I said as I reached over and patted his hand. "It's okay."

He looked stunned. Then he looked down at my hand over his and suddenly his other hand was on top of mine, gently squeezing it. I turned my hand, clasping his as our eyes met. And suddenly, desire for something more than friendship overwhelmed me. I wanted this man and I needed him to want me. I think he felt it too because his eyes widened and panic seemed to fill them. And then he began to relax again, the beaten look was gone. "I um… have some things I need to get through…you know, about the shooting…the review board and all," he said. "But after that's all done, I'd like…I mean, if you don't mind, I'd like to call you and…you know, take you to dinner?"

"When's the review board?"

"Next week."

"Why wait so long? I mean, we could go to dinner before, couldn't we?" I knew I sounded overly eager but I didn't care. Like I said, I wanted this man.

"I'm not going to be very good company until it's over. And I want…well, I don't want to have that hanging between us. I'd like to begin clean…"

"Yeah, okay. I think I understand."

We talked awhile longer about nothing important. And then he said it was time for him to go. I didn't want him to leave and honestly, if he hadn't seemed so determined to wait until dinner the next week, I'd have made a play right there. But something told me the timing would be all wrong and I'd lose him, so I held back. Instead, I settled for a very chaste peck on the cheek and waved good-bye as he backed out of my driveway. And then I went inside to wait. It was the longest week of my life.

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Hope all you Brass lovers out there like the beginning. Let me know what you think and I'll keep writing.


	2. Falling

Oops, had to move this over to an M rating. Hey, what can I say, it's Jim Brass...

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I was helping a last minute customer; you know, one of those pesky people that come in two minutes before closing with lots of questions and they want to look around because they don't know exactly what they want. Then they find something, you think you've got a sale, but then they decide to wait…they want to think about it longer. They'll be back tomorrow…yeah, right. But you have to work with them because maybe, just maybe, they'll buy something. I was fighting back an impatient sigh when I looked up and there he was, standing squarely in the doorway, looking hot. I wondered how a short, balding guy past his prime could look so hot to me, but he did. If I had any doubt, the sudden rush of blood to my face and other fluids to regions below told me so.

Smiling at my customer, I left her to "think" and headed to greet him. He shifted his weight, his fingers working nervously across his thumb, and then stilled, watching my approach uneasily. I smiled hoping to calm him; as if I could have held back my smile…ha. He looked too damn good standing there; I was a kid in a candy store. He was wearing slacks and a polo that fit him like a glove. Those broad shoulders looked tight, as did his pecs. Many other men would envy his biceps, even in a relaxed position. His abdomen hinted at a few too many beers, filling out his shirt. But still…he was hot. There was a light in his eyes as he watched me; he was amused by my appraisal or maybe by the obvious approval I must have been displaying. A small grin broke out on that craggy face adding to the look of amusement. My reaction pleased him and my smile grew as I saw his nervousness fall away. An impulse overtook me and I hugged him, a full body hug, not one of those half assed shoulder hugs that so many people use. I wanted him to know that I was glad to see him. To my surprise, his hands lingered a little too long on my back, his fingers coping a subtle feel of my ass. Our eyes met as we parted and the smugness in his expression told me how much he'd enjoyed the contact.

My customer got angry and left but I didn't care. "So, things must have gone well with the review board?" I asked.

His expression changed to chagrin. "Yeah, they cleared me. I go back on duty tomorrow. So, I thought maybe…"

"Dinner tonight?"

"If you're free?"

"How about I cook?" I had the feeling that he really wasn't in the mood for a public appearance.

"That'd be nice, but I promised you a dinner…"

He was hoping I wouldn't take him up on eating out, I could tell. "I've got a steak that needs grilling," I told him. "You any good with a grill?"

The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable. "How do you like it? The steak, I mean?"

"Sizzling."

"I can do sizzle," he replied. He had me on sizzle already. Forget the steak; I wanted him.

Sizzle he did. And I'm not talking steak either, although he did a good job with that too, I think. I'm not really sure because my mind was elsewhere…on other…meat, if you get my drift. He seemed to have other things on his mind as well, as we eyed each other over our plates. We never made it to dessert…well, not the one I'd thrown together while he was grilling anyway.

I don't think either of us began the night with sex on the mind…well, intentions to act on it anyway. Sexual tension was very much in the air. But mature rational adults take their time to get to know one another before hopping in the sack, right? But what the hell, he was hot, sexy, funny, and had me on sizzle. What else was there to know?

He stayed the night. We dozed but never really slept, so I can't say we slept together. But we did other things together…most of the night. One of the advantages of older men, I've found is that they don't fire so quickly. It takes awhile to get them to full power, but when they blast…oh my god, what a ride. Jim was no exception; better than most, I would guess. We spent hours feeling and caressing, exploring, teasing and titillating. He found all my hot spots and returned to them often, bringing me to the brink several times. He reveled in sending me into convulsions of pleasure and watching me cool, only to light my fire again…and again…all the while, his anticipation of his own "event" becoming more and more obvious.

He felt good in my hand, smooth and hard. And when I ran my lips over his head, he felt like silk and his taste was subtle. I slipped him into my mouth, filling it with just his head. My tongue went to work on his tasty lollipop. I heard his groan and felt his hand on my breast. He'd intended to be gentle, I could tell, but as I worked his head, his grip on me became more intense. He was close, so I turned his game around on him, bringing him to the brink and then backing off to let him cool a little. His lusty chuckle told me that he was onto my game.

To say that Jim was a good lover is an understatement. He knows his way around a woman's body, knows what pleases and what aggravates. He adjusts quickly and reads the little signals well. But more than that, he's fun. It wasn't just about the sex with him that night, he wanted to play and I was his playground. That was fine with me because he was mine too. We joked and teased between arousal and all the heat. Jim made me feel like I was the most interesting, exciting, sexiest woman he'd ever been with, even though I know he must have encountered much more glamorous ones along the way. I tried to return the feeling, which was easy because as the night wore on, I realized that he really was the most interesting, exciting, sexiest man I'd ever spent the night with, which of course only made me want him more.

It was difficult to let him go the next morning. I didn't want it to end… the way he made me feel. He didn't want to leave either, I could tell. But he had to get some sleep before returning to work that night. I understood. It was dangerous out there for a cop, especially a sleepy one.

He called me when he got home and we talked a long time about nothing in particular, simply warmed by the sound of the other's voice. I heard him drifting off to sleep and told him we needed to hang up. Again, I sensed reluctance on his part. "Call me when you wake up," I told him. And he did. I was at work by then, had been for several hours. He called and I'm afraid another customer got poor service. At this rate, I'd be out of business soon, I told him. But I really didn't care. My focus was on the voice on the other end of the line. I was falling for this guy, there was no doubt about it. And it was a glorious ride.

Our schedules didn't allow us to see each other more than two or three times a week. But we made the most of our time together for several weeks. And we talked everyday. I had to go to a product show and was gone a week. He called me every evening and we talked into the night. Then one evening, he didn't call. When he hadn't called half way through the next day, I tried to call him but his cell switched to voice mail. The next day, I called the PD. Captain Brass was unavailable, I was told. I tried his cell again…and again. By the time my plane landed in Vegas, I was frantic. I'd tried PD again and had been told the same thing, he wasn't available. It wasn't until I was walking through the airport and a TV in the lounge was blasting the local news that I understood what had happened.

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Reviews keep the keyboard active. Please use yours to let me know how I'm doing here. Comments, suggestions...I'd love to hear it all.

_Yep, it's still the...the little button is waiting for you._


	3. Fear

This is a short chapter but it says what I want it to say, so I am satisfied. I hope it works for you.

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Jim had been shot. He was alive but in critical condition. Somehow, I made it to long term parking, tossed my bags in the trunk of my car, and headed to the hospital. They wouldn't tell me anything except that he was in ICU. Great, I thought…no visitors except family. And he had no family except an estranged daughter somewhere in LA. I went to the ICU visitors lounge anyway, hoping to find someone who knew something …anything. There was no one. After a few minutes, I saw a man and a woman come out and I recognized him as the one that had been with Jim at the robbery down the street from my shop.

"I can't believe Ellie just disappeared like that," the woman was saying. "Doesn't she understand how much he needs her?"

The man shrugged. "I suppose it was more than she could handle. There's a lot more to the story, Catherine…more between them than we know. I think she loves him, wants him to love her but…from what Jim has told me, it's complicated."

They walked down the hall, away from me. I hurried to catch up, to ask about Jim, but they made it to the elevator and disappeared before I could catch up. I'd considered calling out, but we were in an ICU. I'd probably be tossed out immediately and for good reason.

I approached a nurse and asked about Jim. "Are you family?" she asked.

I hesitated but then blurted out, "I'm his sister. I just flew in from back East…just came from the airport."

"Oh," she brightened. "I didn't realize he had a sister."

"Yeah, we haven't seen much of each other since he moved out here, but …. I had to come." I lied like a pro.

"He's doing much better after our last scare," she told me. "He's resting now. Visiting hours aren't for another two hours…"

"Last scare?' I asked horrified.

"Yes, he flat lined on us again but we were able to bring him back and he seems to have stabilized now. I don't know how many more of those episodes his body can take."

"Must've been while I was on the plane," I mused. Then looking directly at her I pleaded, "Look is there any way I can see him, just for a minute…you know, to let him know I am here?"

She looked around furtively. "I suppose…but only a minute. He really does need his rest."

She showed me to him. He looked small in that hospital bed, not at all like the large personality that he is. And he looked pale, not healthy at all. His body was quiet but his fingers were fidgeting. I covered his hand with mine and his eyes opened in surprise. A grin broke out instantly, although a small one. He seemed too weak for more. His hand grasped mine and I was relieved to feel warmth. "I'm here," I told him. "They won't let me stay long, but I'm here."

He nodded. A single tear formed in his eyes and it was then I knew how scared he was. He understood how close to death he had been…and might still be. I leaned close and planted a kiss on his cheek, nothing that would make the nurse suspicious but enough to let him know I cared. "Is this your new way of making your little sister crazy, big brother," I said, aware of the ears in the hallway.

A hint of mischief gleamed in his eyes as he caught what I was doing. He nodded. "Can't pull pig tails anymore," he managed in a weakened voice.

I heard the nurse behind me and knew it was my cue to leave. "I'll come back later," I assured him. "You get your beauty rest, you could use some," I teased.

He nodded but as I moved away, his hand clung to mine. I looked back and saw desperation in his eyes. He wanted me there. "Jim, they won't let me stay. But I will be back, I promise. Everyday until you get out of here…"

Slowly he let go. I choked back tears as I turned and walked out. I made it into the ladies room before the damn broke. It was heartbreaking to see my vital, vibrant little man in such a state. Then I pulled myself together and headed for my car. I'd go home, dump my bags, freshen up, and head back to the hospital for another visit. Hopefully his "family" from work wouldn't be there and I could have him to myself for a few minutes. We both needed it, I thought.

I got lucky. No one else was there to see him. They would all be working; I remembered…graveyard shift. Jim had told me how that had been his team and there was still a special connection. The nurse let me in without question and I pulled the one chair in the room close so I could watch him sleep. I needed to touch him, so my hand rested on his arm. The contact woke him and once again he managed a small smile. "Thanks," he said before drifting back into oblivion.

Visiting time passed but the nurse did not appear to kick me out, so I stayed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his eyes always seeking me out, his face relaxing when he found me, and then drifting back into sleep.

As I sat, watching him, it occurred to me that somewhere along the way my fascination with this man had changed to something else. I wasn't ready to call it love but a deeper connection had formed. I needed him to be okay, something within me depended on it.

Something within me had been shaken deeply with this event. There was something solid about Jim Brass, something enduring…and endearing, and a world without him would feel a little less warm, less safe. So I held him, clinging to his hand hoping that some of my energy might strengthen him, as I prayed for his recovery.

He did recover. I'm not egotistical enough to claim I was responsible. There were many doctors and nurses whose meticulous care brought him back to life. But I like to think that maybe my encouragement played a role.

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I'm really getting depressed. Reviews on my stories are coming few and far between:-( Please inspire me, pretty please. Any contructive review is welcome, even if you are critical. But please, let me know what you think.


	4. Turmoil

He was home, finally home. I waited until all the attention from his "team" and co-workers ebbed before making an appearance. He seemed happy to see me but reserved. He had been that way at the hospital too. Things seemed off balance with him and I never knew for sure if he wanted me to go or to stay. Now, his hug was awkward, as if he were unsure where we stood. I felt him holding back, motivated by …what? I couldn't decide.

Days went by and his awkwardness continued. I tried to chip away at his reserve but he stalwartly kept an invisible barrier between us, letting me close but not too close until finally, out of frustration, I snapped. "What is this, Jim?" I demanded to know. "Why are you trying to push me away?"

His expression was devastating; complete resignation and defeat settled into his features as he looked at me. "I'm just trying to make it easier…less upsetting for us both when you leave."

"What? Leave…where do you think I'm going?"

"Look, my job is dangerous, you know. I mean, what happened…there's no guarantee that it won't happen again. You've already been through enough with 9/11 and all…you don't need me in your life. Besides, I'm terrible at relationships; you'll just end up getting hurt. "

"I don't need you? When was this decided? Who the hell are you to tell me what I do or don't need in my life? And who's to say this doesn't hurt…what you are doing now?" I was angry, boiling mad and had only unleashed a small portion of my frustration. He looked at me abashed. But he said nothing.

"What, did you dream this up while the drugs were still clouding your brain?" I continued. "Jim, I was frantic when you didn't call that day. I couldn't get back to Vegas fast enough. And when I was walking through the airport and saw the news, heard what had happened to you, I was just about crazy with fear. Why do you think I spent all those hours sitting at the hospital with you? I thought …" I paused to take a breath. "I thought we had the beginning of something, you know; that there was a connection between us. I thought you felt it too…"

Dark mournful blue eyes watched me. Then he looked away and sighed. "I…yeah…I felt it. But now, I don't feel much of anything. I …things can't be the way they were, things have changed…I've changed. I don't have what it takes anymore…You should move on, I can't be the man you need in your life."

"Jim…" I began but he cut me off. "Anna, …look it was nice…having someone around that gave me hope for some kind of future, one that wasn't empty, you know? But I've had a lot of time to think lately and…I just don't see how it's going to work. And we've both been through too much to risk…" It was my turn to cut him off and I did, with a kiss. He pulled away but I could tell that he was forcing himself away. His sob-like gasp was the only sound in the room. "Please, just…go," he almost pleaded. "I…I can't do this…" he sighed as his head dropped in defeat.

Anger rose in my throat. He was pushing me away and it hurt. And then calm settled over me and I realized I wouldn't win this round. Better to back away and take some time to think. "Alright, if that's what you want, I'll go. But it isn't what _I _want," I said as I quickly gathered my things. "If you change your mind…"

"I won't," he said flatly. And so I left without looking back. I couldn't. To look back would have been my undoing and I would have collapsed into tears, something I wasn't willing to do.

That was over six months ago. I haven't seen or heard from him in all these months. I tried calling, left voice mails even, but got no response from him. He must have found a new market in which to shop because he hasn't been back to "our" market; I know this because I asked the clerks. I did catch a glimpse of him on the news one evening. The Sheriff was giving him an award for valor. I could tell by his expression that he thought the whole thing was bullshit. I smiled at the television screen, my heart breaking all over again. Maybe I was in it deeper than I had realized, I thought. One thing was sure of, I was miserable. I needed to find a way to get through to him.

But first, I had to get _to_ him…

I gave it a lot of thought. Hell, I know where he works, I know where he lives…this should be easy, I told myself. Mental images of private detectives in the old movies flashed through my brain. Of course, I follow him…and then what? Hmmmm….I'll look for an opportunity….to get him alone. And then I let him …no…I'll be more subtle than that. Maybe we could _accidentally_ run into each other? Yeah, that's the ticket… accidental meetings. After he sees me a few times, maybe he'll…. What? Beg forgiveness? Yeah, on his knees…

I'm afraid the little devil that sits on my left shoulder was being very naughty, putting all sorts of evil ideas in my mind. I wanted him to beg, to plead….crawl on his knees….

But as I thought more about it, that wasn't really what I wanted. I wanted him to put those strong arms around me and hold me. That's all he had to do and I'd be his forever… like I wasn't already.

I began my mission in the PD parking garage. It was easy to find his car; he was still driving the Chrysler, a hint of his muscle car obsessed youth. My heart went crazy in my chest, beating wildly when I spotted him. He was walking out with the man I'd seen with him before and he'd been at the hospital. The conversation between them seemed serious, something about a priest. Jim was preoccupied with the exchange and slid into his car without even a glance in my direction. Good, I thought, so far so good.

I followed him for three blocks before the little angle on my right shoulder began to work on me. This is a bad idea, it told me. What if he spots you? He's going to think you're stalking him…, which _is_ what you are doing.

The little guy on my left tried to convince me to stay with the plan, but in my heart I knew that what I was doing wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't like it at all if he found out. And Jim was very observant, he'd find out. So I abandoned the plan and turned at the next street, my heart sinking as I put distance between him and me.

I drove home, opened a bottle of wine, found an old melodrama on a movie channel, and cried through the night.

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To use the term 'enjoy' with this chapter seems out of place. But I hope you felt something. Please leave a review and let me know what you are thinking.


	5. Fun Night

A few nights later, I went with some friends to a local club. Our little group was a mixed bag, two single women, a couple, and three single men. We'd met at a Chamber of Commerce sponsored workshop a few years ago and formed our own little group, getting together every couple of weeks or so for a fun evening. Tonight was no exception.

Amy and Alex had been single when we all first met. Obviously, our little gatherings had formed a special bond between them. They'd married six months after the workshop. Mary, the other single woman, was twice divorced and determined not to get involved with any man ever again. Marty, John, and Curt rounded out the little group. Marty was an aging player, coming onto just about anything qualified to wear a dress. But he'd always minded his manners around Mary and me. He certainly made our outings interesting with his antics outside the circle, however. John's wife had died several years ago from cancer, giving us a special understanding, both having lost spouses through tragedy. And Curt brought his own unique perspective to things; he was gay and had opened our eyes to things we'd probably never see otherwise. He was quick to spot real romance, either hetero or gay, and tune us in. He'd been the first to know about Amy and Alex, before even they had known. And he'd been the first to pick up on my then budding relationship with Jim, even though I hadn't mentioned it. He'd also been very caring and considerate since the break-up.

We were gathered around the table, on our second round. Marty was flirting with a woman at the next table, John and Mary and Amy and Alex were dancing, leaving Curt and I in conversation. He was telling me about his latest love interest when I spotted Jim moving through the crowd with a uniformed officer in tow.

Curt noticed my distraction and followed the direction of my eyes. "That's him, isn't it?" he asked. "The cop….the one that ditched you?"

I nodded affirmatively. My mouth was suddenly dry and my throat closed, unable to speak. God, he looked good to me. As I watched him move across the room, his badge dangling from his pocket and an expression of mild irritation on his face, my heart began to pound. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to see me or not. If he saw me and came over to talk, I wasn't sure I could open my mouth. If he didn't see me, I'd kick myself for not approaching him, and if he saw me and ignored me…I'd be crushed.

I watched as he talked to the bartender and then the manager came out. The conversation looked serious. And then it happened. His eyes began to sweep the crowd and nailed me. I froze in my spot as he stared at me, his eyebrows raising and then relaxing. He tilted his head a little and then looked at my companions, Marty with his face turned to the next table and Curt, who was looking at me. John and Mary chose that moment to return to the table.

I watched as his fingers began to fidget, a sign of nervousness and frustration I'd learned to recognize early on. Like metal to a magnet, I was feeling myself drawn to him. "Don't," said Curt.

"What?" I asked surprised.

"You're about to come out of that chair…don't. Let him come to you."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"Then you going to him wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Oh," I said softly.

"And if he does come over…follow my lead," he said softly.

"Uh?" I answered, looking away from my eye candy to look at Curt.

Now when I said Curt was gay, you probably pictured some stereotypical foppish kind of guy who speaks with a high voice and has girlie mannerisms. Curt isn't that by any means. He looks like an athlete, has blonde hair with tinges of grey at the ears, has a deep baritone voice that makes hearts melt, and eyes to swoon over. Other gay men seemed to be able to pick up on his gender preference, everyone else was clueless.

And that was what Jim was seeing sitting next to me, apparently whispering sweet nothings in my ear. In Jim's eyes, Curt was younger, better built, better looking, and obviously interested in me.

The manager led him to the back of the club, where he disappeared for several minutes. When he reemerged, he spoke to the officer, who then headed back outside. Then, Jim took a few steps towards me. Curt chose that moment to wipe something from my cheek, something imaginary, I suspected. Jim stopped, took a deep breath, and then turned and walked out. My heat fell to the floor.

And then the little devil was back on my shoulder. "This is it, the chance meeting….go for it…." it said. Oddly, for once my little angel was agreeing. So I bolted for the door.

I managed to just catch Jim at his car. He turned, looking surprised when I called his name. He stood squarely, his feet apparently glued to the spot. "Anna?"

I moved closer and stood in front of him. "I…you look good," I stumbled out. "All recovered?"

Sadness and indecision blanketed his eyes. "Ah…yeah, as recovered as I'll ever be." He shrugged.

We stood awkwardly before I found the courage to speak again. "I've missed you,"

His look of surprise confused me. Looking at me intently, he nodded towards the door of the club. "You seem to have plenty of company…"

Glancing towards the door, I nodded. "My friends have kept me sane…" _since you pushed me away, _I thought.

His eyebrow arched and disbelief flashed in his eyes. "Yeah, friends… your bosom buddy," he said sarcastically.

Anger was resurfacing. "Curt's just a friend, not that it's any of your business…you pushed me away Jim…and it hurt. I needed my friends. I still do."

Something broke behind his acerbic demeanor. "Anna…I…I'm sorry I hurt you."

His face softened and my old Jim was back, the caring one, the one with a huge heart. He looked disconcerted. "I hoped…I mean, I thought maybe I could save you some grief…" he said sorrowfully. "I'm sorry."

My heart was breaking all over again. "I want to know why, Jim. I at least deserve to know why, don't you think?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The he seemed to come to some sort of decision. "I'm in the middle of a case…can't really talk right now. You free in the morning? We could…um, get a cup of coffee or something and talk…"

"Okay. Give me a call when you finish. I'll be waiting…"

Hid blue eyes narrowed and I could see that he was thinking, questioning. But he wasn't backing out. "Okay….probably about mid morning at the earliest."

A sudden urge ripped through me to hug him, kiss him…anything. I needed to touch him. Putting my hand on his, I squeezed. "Talk to you then…"

He looked down at my hand and I could tell it affected him. The contact had him off balance and he didn't know how to respond, so I decided to let him off the hook, for now anyway. Pulling my hand back, I smiled.

"Anna…I…um, yeah…" he said, ducking his head and then turning to get into his car. Backing away, I turned and walked back inside the club. I could feel his eyes on me as I disappeared through the door.

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Okay, so they are at least talking again, right? I really, really appreciate the reviews! I enjoy my little fantasies but it's more fun when others do too. But, as alwasy, constructive criticism is welcome too.


	6. The Coffee Shop

I just love Brass readers; statistically you guys are so much better at leaving reviews!

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We met for coffee at a shop down the street from my bookshop. Luckily, Joyce, my part-time clerk was working that day, so I could leave. He looked tired when he walked into the little shop. I'd already ordered coffee for both of us and the clerk was calling my name as he appeared. Turning, I handed him his cup and we made our way to a table in the corner.

We sipped in silence for a few minutes, neither of us sure where to begin. Finally, I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "You look tired," I said lamely.

He swallowed the sip he'd just taken. "Uh…yeah, too many cases…a couple of 'em are really tough."

"One of them led you to the club last night?"

"Yeah…but we're not here to talk about the case, are we?" His blue eyes pierced through me.

"No…I….you pushed me away and I want to know why."

"I almost died, Anna…actually, I did. But they brought me back. It makes you think, you know…makes you re-evaluate. I knew I'd screw things up between us, I always do. I thought…." He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face, clearly uncomfortable. "I thought that maybe I could spare you some of the …pain, you know…I mean, it seemed we were getting pretty serious and I thought if I broke if off before…before things got too…serious…maybe…"

"I was there because I had to be. I needed to know you were okay. It scared me so much, seeing you in the hospital like that. And in all of that, I realized that I'm in love with you, Jim. And I wanted to be there for you, to take care of you. But you kept pushing me away. Is it me or do you just not want anyone in your life?"

His sharp intake of air told me that I'd hit a mark. "I…don't especially like being alone," he said, "I've just gotten used to it."

"It doesn't have to be like that Jim."

He looked into his cup, as if seeking answers. I watched as his eyebrows quirked, moving up and down on his face in several configurations. He was having an inner debate. Finally, he tilted his head slightly and began to speak again. "When I was in ICU…you know, after the surgery, I don't remember much. But….I think it was one of the times I …flat lined. They brought me back and …I mean, everything was foggy…but she was there. I could see Gil and Catherine…and Ellie."

"Your daughter?"

"Yeah, I thought maybe it was a dream…but there she was. I was fighting to hang on and there she was, behind Gil. I tried to reach for her, wanted to make it right between us, in case…you know," he shrugged. I nodded but remained quiet, wanting to hear what he was thinking. "My hand…I remember moving my hand to reach for her, but…she disappeared. Gil realized that something was wrong and turned to look at her. I could see the surprise on his face. She was just…gone."

He paused, obviously feeling the pain of that moment. "I um…I was getting better after that; wanted her to come back but she never did. Made me realize how I've totally screwed up every relationship I've ever had…my wife, my kid…Annie, and any other woman I've ever had more than a few dates with. I try to…to do the right things, say the right things, but I always manage to screw it up."

He took another sip of his coffee and looked at me shyly. "I realized how you're feelings were…growing. It scared me. I knew I'd screw us up too and I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the idea of hurting you too." His eyes dipped back to his cup as sadness and defeat covered him like a blanket.

The man was convinced that he couldn't have a healthy relationship, one that could survive the stresses and strains that might develop. And I realized that in his mind, he was doing me a favor, keeping the pain to a minimum. He was being honest when he said he didn't want to hurt me. Slowly my hand slid across the table to cover his. "Jim," I whispered.

He glanced up. "I'm not looking for pity," he said softly. "You wanted an explanation so I'm giving you one."

I stared into his deep blue eyes and understood I would have to be firm if I were going to get through his reasoning. "You _are_ screwing us up," I declared. "We were fine until you decided that we weren't. You are right; my feelings for you were growing. I love you, Jim. And I think you feel the same about me. And I thought we were headed in the right direction until you took a sharp turn…you did it Jim. I'm still here, still interested, still in love with you. All I want is to give us a chance, see where it might go. I understand that you are afraid of messing it up, afraid of the hurt; but you are running away from it like a coward, Jim…and you are not a coward."

He bristled when the word 'coward' tumbled out of my mouth. I knew I had his attention. His eyes were hard as he stared at me. "I've broken guy's noses who called me that," he said sternly.

"So break my nose, Jim….I'll take it if it makes you come to your senses."

He stared at me, stunned. Leaning back in his chair, he shook his head, not quite accepting what I'd just said. But I could see his anger being replaced by other emotions. His eyes darted to the floor and then made their way around the room as he fought some inner battle. And then he was looking at me again, tears sitting in his lower lids, ready to poor out. "If I'm being a coward, then it's because I'm afraid of what I might do to you…"

I looked around the coffee shop. It was beginning to fill up and I knew our conversation was no longer private. "Look, lets take this someplace else…there's too many people here."

He looked around and nodded. "Your place is closest," he offered.

He followed me there and stood behind me as I unlocked my door. Once inside, I tossed my keys and bag on a table and turned to look at him. He was standing just inside the door, looking around warily. I walked to him and raised my hand to his cheek, caressing his stubbly face. He swallowed and licked his lips and I knew I was having the desired effect. "You said you are afraid of what you might do to me. What do I do to you, Jim?"

His eyes closed as he let out a long sigh, like air slowly leaking from a balloon. "You know what you do," he said hoarsely.

"Mmm, and I enjoy doing it too," I purred in my silkiest voice. "I've missed the feel of you…"

A small grumble erupted from deep within him as my hand slid down his neck and rubbed his chest, over his heart. "I've missed your heart," I whispered, suddenly fascinated with the buttons on his shirt.

His hand covered mine and pressed my hand into him. I felt a tremble as it ran through him in response. His hand reached behind me and pulled me to him, wrapping me in his arms, my head on his chest, and holding me tight, as if he couldn't hold me close enough. 'God, I've missed you," he mumbled.

"I'm here, Jim…I'm right here."

We stood there, his arms around me for a long time, just content to be together again. Slowly he began to nuzzle into me, his face working into my neck, cradled between my jaw and my shoulder. And then he began to nibble, changing the nature of our hug immediately. I stepped back, took his hand, and led him down the hall to my room. I was pleased that he offered no resistance. I'd won round one.

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Happy? They're, um...talking now. Want to know what happened after she led him down the hall? You know how to make it happen!


	7. Together

A gentle breeze blew through the open window, caressing my skin, in opposition with the heat that he was creating within me. My eyes closed as my sense of touch and smell overtook me. He was wearing that cologne, my favorite, the one he had worn on our first night together. As the scent worked its way into my head, an overpowering feeling of euphoria drifted over me. And as his hands with those strong fingers trailed over my body, spasms of pleasure raced through me, causing tremors and an involuntary reflex reaction, my back arching in response to the sensation. Torn between giving into total selfishness, letting him continue his sweet torture and reaching out to him, returning some of the pleasure he was giving me, I squirmed beneath his touch.

I felt him come closer, his breath warming my face as he lingered above me. Opening my eyes, I gazed into his warm blue eyes and heard the satisfied moan that his look drew out of me. It occurred to me that no man could mix humor with lust like Jim could. But I saw both in his eyes. Then his eyes shifted, his gaze locking onto my lips. I watched as he descended, his lips gently touching mine; then my eyes closed again as I focused on his kiss.

Whether he trembled from the effort of holding himself over me or from the sensation of our kiss, I don't know. But the growing pressure on my thigh suggested the latter. My hand slid up his shoulder and around his neck, my fingers stroking the short hair on the back of his neck. Then I worked my hand onto his back, lightly scraping his skin with my nails. His grunt told me that I'd hit my mark. Then I began to press him into me, his torso fully covering mine.

He trailed kisses down to my neck, burrowing into the crook, his nibbles eliciting giggles from me. Suddenly he became very still, his face resting against my neck. I felt, as well as heard, his whimper as he lingered there. "Jim?" I whispered.

He settled next to me, leaning on his elbow, his free hand gently tracing the outline of my face. His touch was light, tender, and amazing; it was as if his fingertips were speaking to me, telling me what he was feeling. What his fingers didn't say, his eyes did. Time was suspended as we lay there, his eyes following the work of his fingertips. His lips turned slightly as if a smile was threatening but his blue pools spoke of something much deeper, more serious. His look, his touch… I can't describe the way he made feel in that moment, how awesome it was.

Then he kissed me again. My senses were in overdrive, the feel of his lips, the tentative probing of his tongue, his scent, the feel of his stubble on my face…his strong fingers in my hair, caressing. I could feel the warmth of his body as he leaned into me and all I wanted was more, more of this feeling, more of him…

He began to ease up, moving away slightly. My fingers willed him back, my fingernails digging into his back, demanding. His flinch from my grip was subtle and then a deep chuckle rumbled out of him. "Eager?"

A cool gust of air moved over us as he lowered himself again, this time, his body melding to mine. I could feel the effort of his arms to hold himself so close without crushing me and marveled at the power in his biceps. His graying mat of chest hair blended with the breeze to tickle and tease my chest, brushing over my skin, taunting me. He nibbled at my neck again and then began moving down, lingering in the valley between my breasts. He straddled me, holding himself over me with one arm while his free hand gently stroked my hair and then traced the line between my face and breasts. He bent down for another kiss. I arched toward him, needing his body. His hand wrapped behind me pulling me closer to him.

All of his attention remained focused above the waist, but I couldn't ignore the feel of his manhood as he held himself over me. The growing pressure on my thigh demanded my attention. I wanted to touch him, feel him in my hand, and feel him within me.

But he lingered above me, teasing me with his eyes and his tongue, taunting me with subtle trips down but never far enough. He loitered over my breasts, flicking my nipples with his fingers and then his tongue, coaxing them until they stood proudly at a hard attention. I saw his expression as he watched them rise to his bait and couldn't miss the lasciviousness in his gaze. He was as hungry as I was for this.

His torture continued until I whimpered, eliciting a rumbling chuckle from him. Determined, I took his hand and lowered it, holding it against my core. I heard his moan and a small gasp, and then he whispered my name, "Anna…"

I arched toward his hand, silently begging him and he responded. Skilled fingers parted my lips and teased the valley between. His light touch teased me until I ached for more. Then he began to taunt my nub as he had taunted my nipples earlier. I could tell how wet I was by the ease at which his fingers moved. And I was becoming wetter by the second.

His breathing became more intense as he played in my box. Slowly his finger slid down my valley and into me. Again I was arching, wanting more. I looked up, into his eyes and saw him watching me. Our eyes locked as he manipulated me. He was driving me crazy.

He sucked in a deep breath and pulled his hand away. I groaned. But then he was over me again, this time his cock dangling over my wetness. "You ready, Baby," he asked huskily.

I answered by reaching for his ass and pushing him toward me. He dipped his head to my lips, kissing me as he entered me. Just having him inside of me nearly sent me into a frenzy. He felt so good!

We were still for a moment, simply relishing the joining. I could feel the tremble in his arms again. His eyes were dark, lusty, and something else. And then I saw it, a single tear that trickled out of his eye and down his cheek. He buried his head in my neck as he began to pump. But then he stopped.

"Jim?" I asked. I felt him tense but he stayed in place. "You okay?"

I felt his nod. "I'm good," he whispered. "god…"

My hand travelled up his back and embraced the back of his neck, stroking it. Then I felt it more than heard it, a sob. "Jim? I asked again.

He lifted his head and looked into my eyes, deeply. "I love you….god help me, I love you so much. I missed you; missed…this; missed holding you. Please Anna; don't let me make a mess of this…"

"There's only one kind of mess you're going to make, Jim…"

His face relaxed as a small grin worked at the corners of his mouth. His hard cock went back to work and within minutes, we were beyond ecstasy, moving together, heightening each other's pleasure. And then the fireworks…my head was exploding it was so intense. He clung to me as we descended…or maybe I was clinging to him. But I've never felt so connected to another human being in my life. And as our breathing eased and our bodies cooled, we continued to hold one another.

He held me all afternoon. He told me he loved me; he promised he wouldn't screw things up this time. And he hasn't. Now we spend all of our free time together. I cook for him; he cooks for me. We go out; we stay in. We talk for hours or don't say a word. It doesn't matter; we are together. I know he employs various tactics in his work to intimidate, creating fear in his suspects. But to me he is the kindest, most tender, most romantic man I've ever known; in short, he is a teddy bear. His smile lights my world and I make him smile in return, even on his worst days. And we are very happy….my little man with the big heart and I.

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Okay, that's all folks. I hope you found it satisfactory. I toyed with the last line quite a bit thinking it should have more punch, but in the end decided that it was what I wanted, a gentle ending to a story about a tender man.

I watched a rerun of Grissom's Devine Comedy the other night and was struck again by the gentle heart of Jim Brass and once again transfixed by Paul Guilfoyle's portrayal of the character. He played the scene in Grissom's kitchen just right, showing the guilt that Brass felt and the momentary breakdown without overplaying it. Bravo PG, bravo!

I'd love it if you would leave reviews but I'm really happy with this one, so I'm okay if you don't.


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